


once we were (sisters)

by NotSummer



Series: AU One-shots [8]
Category: Star Wars: The Clone Wars (2008) - All Media Types
Genre: Broken Families, F/M, Family Secrets, Grief/Mourning, Implied/Referenced Character Death, Parallels, Past Character Death, Sisters, Temporary Character Death
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-03-18
Updated: 2018-03-18
Packaged: 2019-04-03 23:04:13
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,227
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14006787
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/NotSummer/pseuds/NotSummer
Summary: Sometimes your greatest failure is protecting your family.





	once we were (sisters)

“I had a sister. A twin.” She stared at the rim of her caf mug, tracing the outside with one red finger. The movement sent ripples through the black caf, and she watched the light scatter off the surface instead of meeting Jesse’s eyes.

“I had no idea,” Jesse said finally. “You’ve never mentioned her.”

“No,” she replied. She struggled with the old grief and regret and guilt and I wish. “It’s been four years since I’ve seen her.” She faltered, silencing herself. Old secrets and old sorrows long buried were never easy to bring back.

He waited for an explanation, finally asking, “What was her name?”

“Sinyata. She was amazing.” Miyala rubbed at her eyes, flinching away when her boyfriend tried to reach her and comfort her. It had been a long time since she had cried over her sister. “Braver, stronger, smarter. She was an amazing duelist. She even mastered the lightwhip, which is nearly unheard of.” She let the ghost of a grin gleam in her eyes as she remembered how her sister had danced through the training halls with the lightwhip glowing as it twirled around her. She had been beautiful, her sister, so fierce and strong and powerful.

Jesse settled back in his chair, his hands clenching and curling. She placed her hand on one of his, squeezing and then letting go. She appreciated the thought, but she did not want to be touched. Not now.

She just wanted to remember. Her sister’s cerulean blue eyes had been far more clever than hers, until they turned yellow with hate and violence and rage. “We were on a joint mission. Her and I, working together.” Her tone was wistful: if only things could have been what they were. “We entered some old ruins, and she found a holocron. She’d always been closer to the Dark than I.”

Miyala swallowed, not looking up from her caf. “Whatever she found, it turned her to the Dark Side. I was still a ‘good little Jedi’ then.” She made the air quotes with her hands, bitter, furious. If she hadn’t been such a loyal Jedi, maybe she could have saved her. Maybe her sister would still be around. Maybe she would have been able to reach out and give her sister what Sinyata had needed, the emotional connection Miyala’s loyalty to the Code had denied her. Maybe she would have been able to reach past the resentment.

“I begged her to come back. I begged and begged until my throat was raw and my voice was gone. And then she tried to kill me.” Her hands shook. “My sister tried to kill me, and so I fought her. I wounded her. And then Master Distombe arrived. I was unconscious by then, and I didn’t see the rest of the fight.”

“When I woke up, Master Distombe told me she had been killed.” She finally burst into tears, leaning into her boyfriend, who slipped around the counter. He said nothing, letting her vent, and bitterly, she remembered they had had the same conversation, but with him revealing his own near execution at the hands of his brothers. She could remember how he had shouted, furious, angry, bitter, and then finally had broken down in tears. From the look in his eyes, he was remembering the same conversation, too.

She shook her head, finally. “I wasn’t strong enough, and I couldn’t save Sinyata. I won’t let it happen again.”

* * *

It was easy enough for Sinyata to break out of the Temple once the Jedi had gone. She didn’t bother wondering why they were all gone. All she knew was that she could not sense her sister. She raced past bodies of Padawans and younglings and old Masters and she let the tears flow free because she was no longer a Jedi but neither was she consumed by the Dark  and her rage and her resentment and this was still once her home. Her cybernetic right arm whirred as she stopped by a Padawan. She could remember the young Miraluka girl. She had once intended to take her as a Padawan, long before she found the holocron.

Blaster marks adorned the walls where old holos had once written the histories of the Jedi into the air. Craters lined the hallways where ancient statues had once stood.

She may have been Fallen, but this was her home. Her hands raised as if she could block everything out. It didn’t work.

She raced past the corpses of men in white armor she didn’t recognize , and she fled into the streets. She had no lightsaber and she wore no robes so she blended into the undercity. There were wisps of her sister’s presence, and she tracked them over the galaxy. She had to find Miyala, because even though she had attacked her in her fury, she still knew one thing: Miyala was her sister, and she was part of her. It was the Jedi who had poisoned their relationship, with their stifling Code, with the unwillingness to let Sinyata find a new Master. Sinyata would have given up being a Shadow if it had only meant getting a Master who cared.

She could remember the compassion in her sister, the empathy. She could remember the way her sister could see the long game, and she remembered the way her sister could ensure things always fell in her favor. It seemed her sisters gift had run out too soon. It seemed her sister had finally come up against something she could not foresee.

So she hunted for the lone traces of her sister left. They led her to a stormtrooper, some special forces trooper. She watched for a month, wondering why this particular stormtrooper was connected to her sister. She wondered if he had killed her, and her hands clenched on the vibroblades she had armed herself with, but something stayed her hand and she moved on.

After two years of tracking, she finds a home on a hilltop. She’s stolen a lightsaber from an inquisitor, and she has rebuilt her saberstaff. She feels like herself again, and she’s working on a lightwhip in between roaming searches. Well, not so much her old self. Her old self was a farce of a Jedi, a collection of half truths and someone who was attempting to be something they weren’t. She feels like Sinyata, now, and she tempers her rage by pointing it at useful targets like Imperial installations in between targets.

She’s close now, though, so she’s put away the weapons and she’s wearing civilian clothes. She looks ordinary, like she was never a Jedi, never a Fallen.

She watches from a tree she’s climbed for a good vantage point, until finally, she sees why her sister’s presence has led her here. As she keeps her vigil over the little girl playing on the carpet in the living room, she feels the wind brush against her cheeks, wiping at tears she hadn’t realized had fallen.

The Force swells, and for half a moment, she can feel her sister again before the presence fades. It’s a last goodbye of sorts, and Sinyata closes her eyes, making her promise to the little twi’lek girl, who has compassionate eyes and a clever heart.

“I wasn’t strong enough, and I couldn’t save Miyala. I won’t let it happen again.”

**Author's Note:**

> i throw a lot of shit at sinyata, and im sorry but also not.


End file.
